by Krista Walsh
One shift of his sunglasses and the fight would be over — no mess to clean up or explain.
Just a few more memories in my head. One more crime I get to live with.
He lived with enough guilt that it had become second nature to him. He wondered if he’d even notice the added weight.
He grabbed the chain from the table and tucked it under his left arm to avoid tripping over it as he crossed the ice. He hoped the bulge it created under his trench coat would be hidden by the storm so Ligeia wouldn’t guess what he carried. Nothing like a set of replacement chains to halt a conversation before it started.
He raised his right hand and curled his fingers to hide their trembling. For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t even lower his arm, just allowed the reality of his situation to hang over him. He was about to return to the river to put an end to a homicidal siren. His limbs felt as heavy as stone.
“Gabe, you all right?” Percy asked in his ear.
The sound shook Gabe out of his whirling thoughts, and he nodded before realizing Percy couldn’t see him. “I’m fine. I’m opening the doorway now.”
He drew his hand in a vertical line and stepped through to the harbor. Snow whipped at his cheeks and he turned his face out of the wind to check if anyone else was keeping him company on the docks. Police tape whipped into the air like reaching arms around the edges of the last crime scene, but no people appeared to be there.
He sent a passing thought to the two detectives and wondered how their investigation was coming along. Had their contact been able to help? Too bad for them that he was here first.
His coat billowed around him, and he hugged it across his chest to prevent it blowing off his shoulders. He readjusted the chain digging into his ribs as he turned toward the river.
“The wind out here is breaking records,” Percy said, and the clatter of his typing echoed through the call. “She must be upset about something. Maybe she’s hangry.”
Gabe couldn’t bring himself to laugh at the joke. He stepped off the dock onto the ice and lost his footing. His muscles screamed as he wrenched himself upright and found his balance.
The snow and his steady pace carried him across the river without another slip, but by the time Ligeia’s glowing blue figure made itself visible, two other figures had already passed him, these ones waist-high and covered in thick gray-and-silver fur.
“What were those?” Percy asked in his ear.
Gabe broke into a run to chase after them.
“Watch out!” Percy exclaimed, and at the last moment, Gabe leapt over the gap in the ice he’d almost missed in his haste.
His ankle turned and he crashed to the ground, then rolled over and jumped back to his feet to keep running. He tasted blood in his mouth along with the sour flavor of fear as he imagined slipping into the water to be lost under the waves, but he focused on the blue glow ahead, too caught up in the moment to have any time for bad memories.
Through the snow, the gray shapes collided with the blue one. She hadn’t seen them coming through the storm, so her defenses were down when they threw themselves at her. Screams pierced through the shriek of the wind, and Gabe skidded to a halt. The purple-tinted chain had unwound from his arm and rattled against his leg, the metal freezing his skin through his glove.
The wind subsided, and in the space between snowflakes, Gabe made out Ligeia’s twisted, skeletal face. Her bony fingers dug into the thick fur of the beast jumping for her neck, and although blood stained her white dress as the claws and teeth tore through her flesh, she never loosened her hold.
What in the seven hells is John doing?
The ethereal wolfhounds slathered and growled. Their hackles were raised, and their fierce mouths revealed sharp fangs that glistened in the eerie blue glow reflecting off the snow and ice. Gabe eyed them warily, his feet braced on the ice in case the hounds turned on him.
He took a step closer. One of the wolfhounds released Ligeia’s arm, a chunk of flesh between its jaws, and turned toward him, his blood-clotted maw curled back in a snarl.
Gabe raised his hands to calm him, and the wolfhound barked, a deep, rough sound that triggered his instinct to run.
He fought against it and took another step closer. The wolfhound hunched down and growled. Its violet eyes glittered against the snow.
Beyond them, Ligeia opened her mouth and sang.
Percy cursed and turned up the volume on the white noise. Gabe clapped his hands over his ears. Between both defenses, only a shadow of the melody made it through, but the notes he heard created no pull on his heart. One of the wolfhounds wavered on its feet, but the other turned and launched itself at the siren. Her song morphed into a screech as she toppled onto her back. Both hounds pounced and pinned her to the ice, one with its jaws on her shoulder, the other clamped down on her knee.
More red spilled across white, and the siren’s screams grew louder. Gabe detected a trace of harmony in her cries and realized she was trying to sing her way free, unable to complete the song through her pain.
I could walk away right now, he thought. John had superseded him to get what he wanted and had succeeded without any more casualties to the city, exactly as planned.
But when he tried to leave, his feet remained frozen to the ice.
“They’re tearing her apart,” Percy said, his voice shaky and disgusted. “You can’t just let them do that. If you’re going to kill her, at least make it quick.”
The sound of his voice thawed Gabe’s indecision. He and John might share a goal, but John had gone against their deal. Gabe couldn’t let the siren suffer like this. Steeling himself, he released a shout that stalled the wolfhounds and turned their attention to him. He set off at a run and waved his arms, putting his broad shoulders and large size to use into making himself appear the greater threat. He swung one of the ends of the chain in a slow circle, picking up the pace until the metal whistled as loudly as the wind.
The hounds backed away from the siren to face him, and the moment she was free, Ligeia slipped into the river and disappeared.
Gabe cursed, then switched his attention back to the dogs. He thrust out his chest to make himself bigger and extended his hands out in front of him, snarling. Releasing the chain, he sent it flying toward the dogs, but they sidestepped, avoiding the blow. They growled and barked, edging closer to test him and then backing off when he lurched in their direction.
One crouched, ready to pounce, and Gabe tucked his chin down to protect his neck. If they wanted to fight, he wouldn’t go easy on them. His encounter with the hellhound had been great practice for the damage these spirit dogs could inflict, and he’d won that round in the end.
The other dog froze. Its ears perked up and it jerked its head to the left, as though hearing some distant sound. The first wolfhound continued to growl, but it rose out of its braced pose and took a few steps backward. The look of awareness in its eyes promised that if they met again, the fight would not be a painless one.
Then both dogs ran across the ice and disappeared into the driving snow.
Gabe released a heavy breath and his shoulders sagged. He shuffled forward and grabbed the chain out of a low snowbank.
“What were those things?” Percy asked.
“Spirit animals,” Gabe replied. “They belong to John.”
“What were they doing here? I thought he left the siren to you?”
Gabe scowled and stared across the empty ice. Ligeia had escaped his grasp, and the storm was picking up around him with a growing force. He turned his face out of the wind and squeezed his hand around the chain at his side. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
***
Discouraged and cold, Gabe returned home. He slammed the chain down on the kitchen table, and the legs trembled beneath the added weight. He’d ended his call with Percy before he left the ice, too angry to want to hear his opinions or questions about how he would handle John.
Rage simmered in his blood, cutting through the chill
that had taken hold of him in what was supposed to have been the final fight.
The image of Ligeia on her back, the wolfhounds feasting on her flesh — a low growl rumbled in Gabe’s throat.
He’d made up his mind to kill her if he had to, but never to torture her. His moment’s hesitation in getting the dogs off her coated his tongue with the bitter taste of regret, and he was glad Percy had been in his head to snap him out of his stupor. He hadn’t made his way in the world by turning his back on what made him human. If anything, the skills he’d learned from humankind had made him a better person, one who felt empathy for those in pain even when his base monster nature told him they were nothing more than bugs crashing into windshields.
He paced his apartment and grabbed the can of beer that he’d opened that morning but hadn’t finished. He chugged it to the dregs and threw the can across the room into the blue bin next to the futon.
“Why did he come to offer help if he planned to do it on his own anyway?” Gabe demanded of the room. “And why make me agree to some stupid deal when he had no intention of holding up his end of it?”
The room made no reply, and in its silence he heard Allegra’s judgment that maybe he should have looked more closely at John’s words.
He drew his cellphone out of his pocket along with the purple paper where John had scribbled his number, then stared at it for a full minute, running through the upcoming conversation in his mind. In one scenario, he reamed the jinni out for not sticking with their agreement and nearly getting him killed; in another, he amazed himself by feeling an urge to apologize to the guy for getting in his way and interrupting his plan.
He gave himself a shake and his rage burned hotter, filling his cheeks. Allegra had been right. This guy was good at getting into people’s heads.
A third scenario dropped into Gabe’s mind, of him yelling at John for manipulating him, but that version faded quickly. He didn’t feel manipulated. He’d gone out there on his own to follow through on a deal. If John didn’t trust him to get it done, that was his issue. But it wouldn’t happen again.
He shifted his thumb to the number pad on the screen to dial John’s private line, but the screen lit up with an incoming call, the same number flashing back at him.
Son of a bitch, he thought, and answered. “Hello?”
“Mr. Mulligan, this is John,” said the smooth voice slipping down the line. “I’ve called to apologize.”
The words came as such a shock that Gabe dropped onto his futon. “For what?”
“For the misunderstanding at the river today. It was entirely my fault and showed a great lack of trust in your abilities and dedication.”
The apology sounded so sincere that some of Gabe’s anger ebbed. “I can’t say I was happy about it. Your hounds and I nearly had it out.”
“They would not have hurt you. I keep them on a very tight leash. But that wouldn’t have stopped them from doing their best to scare you away. My hounds, like you as it turns out, are very goal-oriented, and it’s difficult to get them to stop once they’ve started on a scent.”
“So why did you send them?” Gabe asked. “I thought we agreed I’d take care of it.”
“We did,” John said. “And I see now that you meant it. Please forgive me. I’ve been in this world too long and have seen so few people rise up to meet their obligations that I’ve started believing the worst in those with whom I have dealings. I sent my dogs out in an attempt to ensure at least someone tried to stop Ligeia from continuing her destruction. That you showed up at the same time was a good lesson for me to stop distrusting everyone around me. Especially those with as much determination and perseverance as myself.”
“Maybe you should have offered your hounds as part of your resources,” Gabe said, dryly. “If you’d worked with me, I could have used them to round her up.”
“Those dogs listen to no one but me. In your hands, they would have been useless.”
Gabe pressed his lips together, thinking of the damage those dogs were capable of causing. Before he had a chance to think too hard about their teeth digging into Ligeia’s flesh, he heard a sigh on the other end.
“I just want to avoid the same tragedies that happened the last time Ligeia rose against us. She tore down hundreds of men, a good bulk of my work force. I had to destroy my business and start anew in order to trap her, and I would like to avoid having to go so far a second time. I’ve built too much in New Haven to see it pulled down because one woman was angry not to get her own way.”
Gabe drew his shoulders back and thought about the seven men Ligeia had already killed. If the tally was in the hundreds last time, he couldn’t afford to sit and wait.
“I promised you I’d get her,” he said. “But know that I won’t allow you to go after her like you did today. Yes, she’s a monster who has to be held accountable for what she’s done, but if that was a taste of what you plan to do if I trap her and bring her to you, then know I’ll try even harder to make sure the only thing you get is her corpse.”
Now that Gabe’s anger had worn off, a sluggish confusion replaced it. During their meeting, he’d gotten the sense that John didn’t want her dead. He wondered what had caused the change of heart — or if the jinni had been close to the river, prepared to trap her once she was subdued.
He thought about the hounds’ reaction to the unheard sound and realized that must have been exactly what had happened.
“Trust me, Mr. Mulligan,” John said. “I do not mean to cause her harm. I just want her safe. I want my town safe. As long as you can help me do that, I will consider our deal fulfilled.”
Gabe grunted. “Good. Then I’m going out there again, and this time you keep your hands off. I’ll call this number once it’s done, as you asked.”
“Thank you,” John said. A moment’s pause came down the line, but Gabe heard him breathing. The clock on the wall ticked the seconds away. Finally he added, “When Clare first told me she hired you, I looked into your background. I confess I worried she had hired some amateur rock star — someone relying on flash and celebrity instead of quality. I see now that I was wrong. You’re a passionate man, and sometimes rash, but you do what needs to be done to finish the job. I respect that.”
Gabe listened to the tone in the jinni’s voice, and the hair on the back of his neck rose when he couldn’t place it. Apology? Surprise? Something more sinister?
The more he spoke with John, the more Allegra’s perception of him seemed accurate, and he thanked his stars their association was nearly complete.
I’m surrounded by monsters, he thought, setting down his phone after John disconnected. Figuring out who the bad guys are is getting harder. I can’t even tell the difference when I look in the mirror these days.
He slipped the phone into his pocket and called Percy back on his headset. The phone rang five times before Percy answered.
“Sorry,” he said. “Pee break. How are you doing?”
“Turns out John sent the hounds after the siren because he didn’t think I’d be able to handle her on my own. I think it’s time to prove him wrong.”
“So you’re going back out?”
“Yep.”
“Now?”
“Can you think of a better time?”
“No…” Percy said, his voice wavering with uncertainty. “But do you think she’ll be back already? She was pretty hurt.”
“Maybe that means she’ll move more slowly. I can’t afford to waste any more time, Perce.”
“I know, and I’m not suggesting you do, but maybe get some food in your belly first? Maybe a nap? You look like a wreck. I know you got some sleep before you went out, but I wouldn’t know it to look at you. Maybe another lie-down wouldn’t be the worst idea.”
Gabe heard everything Percy wasn’t saying. He’d gone after the woman twice, and both times, he’d almost died. Even the wolfhounds had difficulty pinning her down, and they were made of air and had teeth the length of fork tines. How did he expect to ge
t that chain around her before the woman got her claws in him?
He shoved his hands through his hair and rolled his neck until it popped. Each delay that held him back wore on his courage, but Percy was right. If he was going out there, he had to make sure he did things right.
16
Over the next few hours, Gabe ate a late lunch — his last meal of pizza straight from the box, he told himself — took his forty winks, and spent some time getting comfortable with the magical chain. According to John, the magic he’d worked into the metal would sap the siren’s strength, so as long as Gabe managed to make contact, he could snap the manacles around Ligeia’s wrists without her being able to tear off his fingers when he touched her.
Simple.
The pins-and-needles sensation made holding the chain without gloves too uncomfortable, so even as the radiator sizzled heat through the apartment, Gabe kept his fingers wrapped in leather.
He hefted the chain in his hands to work up the confidence that it would be just as easy when he stood on the ice in the sleet and snow, but all that floated through his mind were scenarios where Ligeia killed him before he could get close enough to use it.
“Why couldn’t the guy have come up with something more practical?” Gabe asked the room. “Magic-infused tranquilizer darts or something.”
He shook his head and stretched the chain out between his arms. The manacles hung open, the latches bright with new-metal shine. He dropped the chain to inspect the shackle more closely and scrunched his brow when he noticed there was no obvious lock to open them afterward.
“He’s not taking any chances this time.”
But it was Gabe who would be taking the risk. He’d asked for it, so couldn’t begrudge John the responsibility — and at least now he was armed with more than if he’d gone in on his own — but he wished someone could offer a suggestion on how to get the task done quickly and cleanly.
Dart in from behind and grab her? Throw himself at her and hope his weight overcame her strength?